


Think Of It As An Investment

by Elvendork



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvendork/pseuds/Elvendork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is getting reckless, and a familiar face shows up to offer help. </p><p>Post-Reichenbach, pre-reuinion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think Of It As An Investment

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another pointless, plotless post-Reichenbach scene that wouldn't leave me alone. How many does that make now, five? I really should have just written a proper one shouldn't I? 
> 
> ( _But actual filming of the actual third series happening what do you mean over-excited there is no such thing._ )
> 
> Also the first time I have ever written Irene, so I hope it turned out okay...

‘If you keep this up you’ll never get home.’

Sherlock blinks. The voice is familiar; the location is not. Or at least, not specifically; one hospital is very much like another, he supposes, but he has never been in this particular one before. He turns his head and frowns irritably at the woman seated next to him. He is not surprised to see her; he recognised her perfume the moment he regained consciousness.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demands, running quickly through his most recent (blurry) memories to try and make sense of the situation. He can think of nothing past stumbling into the lobby of the latest in a long series of cheap, anonymous hotels. He has a vague impression of climbing some stairs and fumbling with a key card, but he can’t be sure if they are actual events or pure invention.

‘Saving your life. Again. I found you passed out in your hotel room.’ Irene uncrosses her legs and leans forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped loosely together. She looks entirely at ease. Suspicion grips Sherlock’s mind and he struggles to push himself upright, pulling at the tape holding his IV line in place.

‘I can’t be here, I’ll –’

‘Relax,’ Irene interrupts, reaching out, knocking his hand out of the way and smoothing the tape back before he can remove it, then replacing his hand on the bed and giving it a patronising little pat. ‘I know a little something about staying off the grid. And I know the nurse who checked you in. Well –’

‘You know what she likes.’ Sherlock finishes for her as she leans back. He adjusts the tape again, but doesn’t remove it. Yet.

‘No questions, no records.’

‘I was fine,’ Sherlock insists. The very _last_ thing he needs is anyone else interfering in his work at this stage. Especially someone so…unpredictable.

‘Clearly,’ she makes no effort to hide the contempt from her voice.

‘What _are_ you doing here?’ He doesn’t bother to ask how Irene knew he was alive; he knows she won’t tell anyone until it is an advantage to her, and if she is here now it must mean that she has decided to test his own usefulness before his adversaries. Small mercies, he supposes.

‘My, we are getting slow. Like I said, saving your life. Carry on like this and you’ll be dead or discovered before the end of the month, and then you’ll never see John again.’ Sherlock visibly flinches at her words, and Irene smirks, although not entirely unkindly. ‘Oh dear, did that hit a nerve? Now –’

‘Why?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Why would you help me?’

‘Repaying a debt,’ Irene shifts in her seat. Sherlock watches her closely, trying to deduce anything he can about her motivations – but as usual, she is a complete blank. It is both fascinating and endlessly frustrating.

‘You don’t owe me one,’ he points out calmly.

‘And this way I’ll never have to. Think of it as an investment.’

Sherlock should dismiss her out of hand. The more people are involved the more difficult it will be to conceal his survival from the likes of Sebastian Moran. And yet – Irene is dangerous. If he dismisses her, she could immediately go to Moran herself in order to gain the advantage.

And if she knows about _him_ , she might know about more as well. She could – much as he hates to admit it – be useful. He decides to find out before making his decision. He opens his mouth to ask what she knows about the remnants of Moriarty’s vast network, but what comes out is another question entirely.

‘Have you seen John? Or Mrs Hudson –’

‘Dear, dear, Junior. Is this sentiment?’ Irene raises her eyebrows, looking amused. Irrational anger flares in Sherlock’s chest – almost akin to _embarrassment_.

‘I don’t need your help,’ he announces, warily. He isn’t about to _refuse_ it, if only because Irene would make a very dangerous enemy and he doesn’t need any more of those, but he needs to establish that he could do this on his own perfectly well – he _could_ dismiss her at any moment; she is not indispensable.

‘Of course you do. Don’t you want to find the elusive Colonel Moran?’

‘Do you know him? Do you know where he is?’

‘I know what he likes.’

 


End file.
